Harry Stark
by InterdimensionalHitchhiker84
Summary: The Dursleys simply weren't an option for young Harry, but how closely related did his new guardian have to be? Would a distant cousin in the states work? Harry is adopted by Nathan Stark and science, magic, and awesome collide inside a large cloud of family drama. Harry never could have the perfect home. Harry PotterxEurekaxIronMan. Nathan Stark/Allison Blake.
1. Chapter 1--He Isn't Wanted

_I'm no longer apologizing for starting more stories when I should be working on the ones I already have. It just sort of happens. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize from something else. This applies to all following chapters._

_Warnings: This is a triple crossover between Harry Potter, Eureka, and Iron Man. Right now, Iron Man's not too evident but in future chapters, it will take a more active role. If you don't like triple crossovers, then just don't read this one. Also, Harry's timeline has been moved to work with Eureka's and this story is currently set before the start of the show. Iron Man's timeline might be changed slightly as well._

_Enjoy!_

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CHAPTER 1—He Isn't Wanted

Petunia Dursley grimaced as she cleaned, making sure to perfectly disinfect every spot of her kitchen from where Dudley had thrown his tantrum and made such a mess. Mashed up food had been sprayed everywhere, along with some nasty glass shards and she'd been working for hours now. Her hard work was paying off though, and every visible surface was sparkling once more. She just had to make sure it was all perfectly germ-free for her Duddikins.

She stopped suddenly as a sharp crack echoed down the street and she became nervous as all of the outside lights began to go out. Carefully, she turned the dim-so-as-not-to-wake-Dudley kitchen lights all the way off. And she waited. And waited.

When she heard the sound of a great motorcycle and then a large thump though, she snuck to the hall closet and pulled out the bat she'd bought for herself in college for protection. It was a heavy wood and felt comfortable in the grip of her thin hands.

As she edged through the hall toward the door, she could tell that there were an assortment of people on her front step and she wondered if it might be better to call the police but she daren't make a sound.

When she heard an enormous wail though and heard the word 'Harry,' something snapped inside of her. She slammed open the door and started swinging, hitting an older woman in the stomach and smashing firmly into an old man's kneecaps. The man fell the the ground, crying out in pain.

Despite her fear and shock, Petunia made short work of informing the group that she was _not_ looking to adopt. With one last hushed yell of "If you're so worried about the freak's safety, then why don't you just put him out of the country?" she slammed the door in their faces. She carefully put the bat away then and set about finishing up with the last of the disinfectant spray before heading to bed, eeling much safer.

Dumbledore didn't know what to do now. Petunia had been his one hope and he couldn't for the life of him understand her reaction. His newly regrown knees still ached from the memory of the damage she had inflicted upon them. He was only glad that Poppy had agreed to look after young Harry over the last few days.

Albus Dumbledore had looked into appropriate wizarding families, muggle foster care, and everything else he could think of, but nothing would work for this young chosen one. Nothing would provide him with the protection he needed. So, left with no other options, Dumbledore looked into Lily Evans' geneology as far back as he could, looking for cousins or aunts or anyone who could potentially take in a young child. There was no one. Lily's family had been small and what little there had been had been killed by death eaters in the war.

After all this failure, it was understandable how he might look upon a little sliver of mild success as if it were a brilliant ray of sunshine. He couldn't believe his eyes as he looked upon what he'd just discovered. Lily Evans was related by blood (albeit quite distantly) to two men in the United States. Both of them were busy and might not have time for a child, but they were also both filthy rich, which meant they could hire nannies. It wasn't ideal, but protection was more important than comfort at the moment.

It was with a great deal of pleasure and excitement that Dumbledore quickly created an international portkey, made a note of its approval, and activated it, dropping himself into a spacious living room overlooking a large city.

And after a confrontation with a disembodied voice, weapons blasts coming from nowhere, and several well-muscled people, it was with great displeasure and a severe lack of excitement that he was removed from the building before ever getting a chance to speak to its owner.

Needless to say, Dumbledore was much more careful when planning his visit to the other man. He found out both where the man lived and where he worked and chose to meet him at home. It was on Sunday evening that Albus portkeyed to a nearby location before walking to the door of the man's apartment and knocking politely. It took Dumbledore ten minuted to determine that nobody was home. It was time for a different approach. The next morning, he went into the man's office building and spoke to a young woman sitting behind a desk. It took quite a while to convince the young lady, even with a mild confundus charm, but he managed to get a meeting scheduled for the next afternoon. Smiling, he returned to his castle and prepared the adoption papers that would be necessary for moving Harry overseas.

When Dumbledore arrived back at the building, which was at least ten stories high, he mde his way to the desk once more and after waiting a full twenty minutes, was escorted to an office on the very top floor. He was instructed to have a seat and as soon as the young woman left he transformed the offered chair into something much more comfortable.

The man he'd come to speak with entered in a manner that was decidedly less than friendly. Never looking up from the file he held open in one hand and the flat metal and glass object in the other, the dark-haired and bearded man fired off "Who are you, what do you want, speak quickly, my time is valuble."

Slightly taken aback, but determined nonetheless, Dumbledore cleared his throat then answered, watching the man lean up against the desk that bore a sign with his name: Nathan Stark. "I am Albus Dumbledore and I'm hear to talk to you about a boy called Harry Potter—a distant relative of yours."

The man looked up, his expression just short of hostile.

"The boy's parents were the unfortunate victims of a terrorist attack and his life is still at risk. It is felt that it would be safest to remove him from the country and place him with family."

The man's expression became more hostile by the second.

"I'm going to tell you some things that are very hard to believe, but I need you to believe them because Harry's life depends on it." Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow and Dumbledore told him the story of how Voldemort had risen to power and how Harry had defeated him and why it was so important he be raised away from that with family. Mr. Stark circled around the desk and began typing after only three sentences and when Dumbledore completed the tale, he smiled.

"Very nice, Mr. Dumbledore. Lovely tale, very entertaining. However, it was a waste of my time. Please leave."

Dumbledore stood and transfigured the chair back to its original form before looking the man straight in the eyes, which now held a curious and rather unbelieving tint. "I need you to take this seriously, Mr. Stark. I understand that this all is a lot to take in, but for Harry's sake, you must listen to me."

It took some convincing and several demonstrations as well as the introduction to a member of the American version of the ministry, but finally, Nathan Stark signed the papers.

It was on December the ninth, 1995 that Professor Albus Dumbledore delivered a nearly one and a half year old Harry Potter to the American muggle. The man took the child into his arms reluctantly and with a slight frown. "When will he start showing signs of magic?"

"We've been over this, Mr. Stark. He already has magic and will have accidental outbursts anytime he feels extreme emotions, but the bursts should definitely begin to show before his eighth birthday unless he is especially controlled."

Nathan frowned again and looked down at the black-haired, green-eyed child before looking back up at the Professor. "Is that all?"

The old man smiled then pulled a portkey out of his pocket and activated it.

Nathan Stark never claimed to be a good father-figure. He did his best to spend time with Harry around his hectic work schedule and hired people to do the rest, but despite the lack of frequent interaction, the child had started calling Nathan 'Daddy' by Christmas. When he didn't seem to be developing fast enough, Nathan hired a tutor for him to make sure Harry learned how to speak properly and then read and write. By the time he was old enough for pre-school, Harry Stark could have easily entered second grade. By the time he was seven, he was studying advanced middle school subjects.

Nathan still spent more time at work than he should and not nearly enough time with Harry, but he did his best to make time when he could and Harry knew that his dad was proud of him. They often spent time together in a lab, building things or expirimenting. Every time he got Harry to do magic so he could study it, Nathan smirked, pleased to no end that he had resources his cousin didn't.

When Nathan met Allison Blake, though, everything changed.

Nathan's time away from work was cut in half and obviously the seven-year old was resentful. It all changed again, though, at his first serious burst of accidental magic.

Nathan opened the door to his apartment and stepped through it backwards, kissing Allison as he did so. Harry made a face at the scene and Nathan noticed, but just sent him a 'behave' look. "Where's Kevin?" Allison asked.

Harry made a face that was probably supposed to convey how very much he didn't care and Nathan warned him with a much firmer look. "In the other room, I guess. He didn't want to do anything with me." Allison went off to find her son and Nathan kneeled down on the floor in front of his.

"Harry, I know you don't like the situation right now, but it will get better. How about we set up specific times for just you and me?"

"I don't want specific times, Dad. I want everything back like it was." Harry folded his arms and pouted.

"That's not how it works, Harry. I love you very much, but there are other people that need my attention. And you need to work a little harder at getting along with Kevin. I know he's different but that's all the more reason for you to be understanding. I need you to be a big brother to him."

Harry's eyes went wide with shock and Allison reentered the living room with Kevin and sat down on the couch with him. "Harry, Kevin," she said. "We have something we'd like to tell you. We're getting married. We're going to be a family."

Nathan smiled and Kevin didn't seem to react at all, but Harry seethed. It felt like a big something was welling up inside of him and waiting to explode outwards. He tried to take some calming breaths, but when Allison touched his arm and asked him a question, Harry lost control of the something inside of him and it got away. In a second, every piece of glass in the apartment had shattered, every object had fallen from its shelf, and every electronic had shorted out. And Allison had turned green. Quite green. With blue hair.

Kevin looked completely frozen with fear and Harry panicked. Looking at the damage all around him, he ran to his room, scared half to death and his anger at his dad completely forgotten. Had he done that?

Nathan shot Allison a look that said he'd be back and followed Harry quickly, knocking before entering the room and coming over to sit on the bed. Harry fliched away when Nathan tried to put an arm around him and blinked tears out of his eyes.

"Harry," Nathan said calmly. "It's alright. You got a bit emotional and you lost control. It's okay." He reached for his son again, pulling the child into a hug. "I know it's a lot of changes, but we're going to get through this." Harry broke down and sobbed in his dad's arms.

"I'm sorry I broke everything."

"No, Harry, it's fine. This means we get to study some more magic. That technology short was interesting. It seems to happen every time. Maybe we can put together something that won't do that. What do you think?"

It was only a couple more years before things with Allison fell apart and she left, taking Kevin with her. Harry didn't mind too much. He'd nearly grown fond of Kevin, but he never said anything, so it wasn't a huge loss. He didn't like seeing his dad sad like this though. Allison had said she'd left because Nathan spent too much time working and not enough time at home focused on family. He couldn't seperate the two. This was due partially from him constantly working with Harry in the lab to figure out the magic-proof technology thing. They'd gotten several working prototypes, but Allison didn't know about magic and so she didn't understand what was so important about it and she walked away.

The separation helped Harry and Nathan to grow closer than ever though, and soon they had a whole arsenal of everyday technological devices that not only didn't short out when exposed to magic, but were actually partially powered by the jumps in the mysterious energy that always seemed to hang around Harry.

And on the thirtieth of July, 2005, when Harry received a parchment letter inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he and Nathan sat down to have a long talk—a talk that changed everything in a whole different way than Allison had.

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_Please let me know what you liked and didn't like. Chapter two will be up soon, but reviews are super motivational. :)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


	2. Chapter 2--A Matter of Time

_Yay! Chapter 2! This story is a lot of fun to write, so you're getting longer chapters than normal and updates shouldn't be too far apart. _

_Enjoy!_

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CHAPTER 2—A Matter of Time

"So I'll be in England for nine months of the year?"

"Yes."

"And I won't get to see you at all?"

"You'll come home for Christmas and Easter."

Harry slumped back into the couch cushions and frowned. "Do I have to go?"

Nathan gave his son a puzzled look. "Yes. You need to learn about your magic so you can control it. I can't teach you that."

"But aren't there schools here so I can stay close to home?"

"Harry, we hardly ever see eachother anyways. You'll be able to call and write whenever you want. And, this is the school your parents went to. I'm sure you'll get to hear stories about them and things."

"I don't want to go to England, though. I don't know anybody there and I don't like the idea of being so far from home and... what if they make fun of me for not having an accent?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose to repress a sigh. "Harry," he began slowly, "how about this: I'll get in contact with the DOM and have them set up a time for you to meet with representatives of several different schools. Then, if you really don't want to go to Hogwarts, you can choose a different one."

Harry nodded reluctantly and Nathan patted him quickly on the shoulder before sending him off to bed, thinking that maybe having Harry leave the country wasn't the best idea after all. Putting all these thoughts aside, he got back to his mountain of work. It was hours later before he fell into his bed.

The meeting was a disaster. More than eager to help, the Department of Magic had brought in people from five different North American schools, one Central Americal one, and two Southern American ones in addition to several European schools and an agency that provided personal tutors.

Harry ended up huddled in a chair next to his father, trying to look small, after only a few minutes and Nathan was fighting off a serious headache in no time.

The information was conflicting and incredibly difficult to cipher through without having been trained as a wizard himself, but there was a Canadian school that caught his eye and he collected contact information from them as well as two US schools before sending everybody but a Professor McGonagall away.

McGonagall sat directly across from Harry and Nathan at the long conference table and Harry, no longer surrounded by mobs of people all trying to get his attention, sat up a little straighter and looked at her. She gave him a kind smile and then looked to Nathan. "What would you like to know? It isn't often that non-magical parents look into more than a couple of options for their children's educations."

Nathan put on a slightly predatory half-smile. "I'm sure they don't. Harry and I would like to know _everything_ before we agree to being parted by an ocean for nine months of the year."

She cleared her thoat, "Yes, I can see how that might be a difficult decision. Hogwarts is though, Mr. Stark, the premier school of magic in Europe."

"I notice you don't say 'world' there, Professor. Which schools are better?"

"Obviously that's not what I meant, Mr. Stark." He raised an eyebrow and looked at her over steepled fingers. "The United States and Britain have long been seperated by more than just water and in the wizarding world especially, there is very little contact between the two. Never before has an American student attended Hogwarts. Tradition, however, is indicating a new story for your son. Since his biological parents both attended the school, most would say that it were only fitting that Harry should attend as well. Of course, it is your decision, but he would be welcomed with open arms. Our teachers are highly skilled, our curriculum is top-notch, and our-"

"Yes, we've read all about your academics and although I'm thouroghly disappointed in the lack of non-magical subjects, Harry has already completed high school as of this year and simply doesn't need them. So, tell us about extra-curriculars. Sports teams, clubs, study groups. What would happen if Harry were injured while at school? How involved can parents be in students' lives? What sort of ways do they have to communicate to those outside of the campus? What sort of careers are you preparing your students for?"

McGonagall stuttered a bit at the start, but quickly recovered and answered the questions, explaining all she could. Nathan was actually quite impressed. Any Hogwarts graduate would easily be able to compete at the professional level.

"Three more questions," Nathan said. "I understand that most non-magical technology doesn't work well with magic. Would Harry be allowed to bring and use his phone and computer?"

McGonagall looked quite skeptical. "It's doubtful that they would work, but if they did, I'm certain we could work something out for him. Obviously not during class, but it shouldn't be a problem during his free time. Most students bring games and other personal things from home with them."

Nathan nodded. "My son began official schooling before he turned two and has now reached past the levels of people nearly twice his age. Obviously he is a quick learner and is used to working at a fast pace. Does the school provide any way to accelerate learning? Advanced classes, studying ahead, skipping years?"

"Very few manage anything beyond the standard workload, but if Harry were to prove himself capable, the professors would be more than willing to personally work with him to keep up with whatever pace he works at." She sounded very confident.

"I'm glad. Has the situation with the terorists been taken care of? That is why Harry was removed from the country in the first place."

McGonagall smiled. "Of course. Several suspected members of the organization are still out of prison, but they have not attempted anything beyond petty bribery in many years. Harry will be completely safe while at school."

Nathan stood and offered his hand to the professor, indicating that the meeting was over. "Good. Please set up a date with my secretary. We'll be meeting every professor and taking a tour of the school before making a final decision. Anything you'd like to say, Harry?"

Harry looked up at McGonagall nervously but with a calculating and thoughtful air before saying, "No." He stayed in his seat and watched.

"Well then, thank you for your time, Professor." And with that, he buttoned his suit jacket and left the room, Harry standing and following after him, only pausing for a moment to say, "Thank you, Professor," and leavingMcGonagall in the now-empty room.

"So, Harry?" Nathan asked as the pair walked purposefully down the hallway.

"I still don't want to go to England."

"It's a good school and you're going. You're strong and you'll make it. And you'll be allowed to have your phone and computer so you'll be fine. I have a meeting in New York tomorrow, so I'll drop you off at home and then see you on Thursday. Deal?"

Harry frowned but said nothing and simply followed his dad out to the car.

When Nathan Stark returned home from his business trip/family squabble, he entered his apartment to find his son curled up crying on his bed. Nathan had always struggled with emotions and whatever had gotten Harry into such a state was definitly something he really didn't want to attempt dealing with, but with a deep breath, he crossed the room and sat down by his son, putting an arm around the narrow shoulders. The small boy immediately burried himself deeper into Nathan's side and tried to slow the sobs. "What's wrong, Harry?"

After a few moments, Harry had slowed his breathing enough to answer. "I'm terrified, Dad."

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut against the oncoming headache and pulled Harry closer to him.

"I know, son. I remember when Tony went off to a boarding school. It hadn't occurred to me until yesterday how much your childhood has parallelled his. And I should have done better. But right now, going away to school is what's best for you. You'll be able to learn about magic, which is a huge part of who you are, and you'll be able to be around people your own age, which is something you haven't ever had before and you should have."

"I already almost never see you. I d-don't want it to be less."

Nathan pressed a kiss into the messy black hair and said, as calmly and as clearly as he could, "I promise, Harry, that I will speak to you each and every day if you want. I will make time for you. Do you hear me, Harry? You are important and I will be there. It doesn't matter if you're far away because you've got a phone. I'll miss you too, but we'll get through this."

Harry nodded, tears falling much slower now. "I know."

The trip to Vertik Alley was was exciting. Harry was trying his very best now to overcome his fears and insecurities and face what was coming with bravery since there didn't seem to be any way of getting out of it. It was far from their first visit to the shopping center but this was the first time he'd get to buy much besides books and he was finally going to get a wand!

He and Nathan stepped confidently into the sky-scraper, barely even flinching as the gravity switched and they found themselves on a cobbled path climbing up the internal wall. The robes shop grumbled loudly at having to create robes of a specific design to accommodate a school they'd only heard of in passing once or twice but none of the other shops looked at him any differently than they did all the other students. He gathered cauldrons and potion ingredients and placed them in his brand new trunk before nearly skipping into the wandsmith's, dragging his dad along.

It was a cheerful place, smelling of warm wood and herbs, and sunshine streamed through the skylights. When colorful sparks shot out of a hawthorn wand with an augurey feather and a unicorn tail hair, he jumped for joy and pounded his fist in the air, making the wandsmith chuckle heartily and even causing Nathan to crack a smile and shake his head in amusement.

A couple days later, Harry packed his favorite old telescope into his trunk next to some of his old and new school supplies and sighed, looking wistfully about his room. He dropped the lid of the trunk down and sat on top of it, putting his chin in his hands.

The next night, he securely tucked his iPod, phone, and new organic computer into his backpack alongside his spare set of robes and zipped it up. It was the thirty-first of August—a Wednesday—and he'd be leaving for school in just a few hours. Flopping down on his bed, he got a restless bit of sleep before his alarm blared at two o'clock.

It took all Nathan had to get his eleven year old son out of bed and moving before the portkey activated and when they appeared with a jerk on platform nine and three quarters in King's Cross station in the middle of all the mid-day hustle and bustle, a still-sleepy Harry jerked awake at the sudden movement and noise.

It didn't last, though. Nathan helped him get his trunk up into the luggage rack and then gave him a hug and an embarrassing kiss on the top of the head. "Call me tonight, Harry. I expect to hear from you by two. That's ten your time. Got it?"

Harry nodded his head, pulled a blanket out of seemingly nowhere, plugged his earbuds in, and curled up on the seats, too tired to fully appreciate that he was leaving home and wouldn't see his dad for months, despite how much he'd been fearing this moment for weeks now. In just minutes, Harry had fallen asleep again and Nathan smiled as he gave his kid one last kiss and left the train station, the red engine pulling away just as he did so, at three bloody am.

When someone touched Harry's shoulder, he rolled over slightly, pulled out one of his earbuds, and glared sleepily at whoever it was. He took three seconds to poke his contact back into place and then let his vision clear to reveal a set of identical redheads with lots of freckles. He vaguely registered that they were asking him if he was okay and then talking about his scar. They must have seen the letter addressed to him sticking up out of his backpack and then looked for the nearly invisible scar on his forehead.

"It is!" one of them exclaimed.

"Harry Potter, so very-"

"bloody amazing to meet you."

"Have you met anyone else yet?"

Harry glanced down at his watch and scowled.

"It's bloody three thirty in the morning," he growled. He then rolled over again, pulled his blanket tighter around him, put his earbud back in, increased the volume, and went back to sleep, ignoring whatever was geing said by those around him.

When he woke up for a third time that day, Harry leisurely stretched and stood to shake out his aching muscles and was pleased to see that his compartment was still empty. And someone had been thoughtful and pulled the curtains closed for him.

He checked his watch again and quickly did the addition in his head. It was nearly three in the afternoon by this time zone. He rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes and changed into the uncomfortable robes before sliding open the compartment door.

Lots of people stared as he exited the compartment and moved down the corridor but he needed the bathroom badly enough that he was able to ignore them. He didn't have as easy a time on the way back. He was grateful that he couldn't hear what they were saying because good or bad, he would inevitably care about it, but if all he could hear was his favorite rock music, he didn't have to care about what they thought or said. He could still see them though, and the way their eyes followed him was unnerving. Harry pulled his iPod out of his pocket and switched the song, avoiding the glances of other students. As soon as he was back in his compartment, he sluped into the seats in relief and happily pulled out a book.

Then he was interrupted.

The compartment door slid open to reveal a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth. Behind her was a chubby boy with sandy hair who looked thouroughly miserable.

"Excuse me, have you by any chance seen a toad? Neville's lost his." Harry quickly decided that she was bossy and annoying and he tuned her out but he interrupted her to speak to the boy. "I didn't bring a pet. If I had, I'd probably have lost it by now too. I saw two toads on the way back here from the bathroom. What does your look like?"

The girl had stopped talking, looking slightly taken aback and the boy who Harry had identified as Neville looked shocked that someone was talking to him.

"He's.. uh... green with some brown markings. There's this spot over his right eye that looks really cool, like a bat."

Harry smiled. "That's awesome! My name's Harry." Harry decided that Neville wasn't too bad. Ignoring the girl though had made her angry and she left the compartment. Neville quickly sat down in one of the empty seats.

"Neville," he said. "Neville Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you, Neville Longbottom. Harry Stark. I don't think it's any use looking for your toad, really. The luggage and everybody's pets are supposed to be magically taken to their rooms, so he should show up then. If not, you can try asking a professor, maybe."

Neville smiled a bit. "Why are you in here alone?"

"Me? I just woke up. It's only about seven thirty you know. Which reminds me, I'm hungry."

Harry began digging through his back pack looking for food as Neville spoke, confusion evident in his tone. "Seven thirty?"

"Yeah, I'm from America. I haven't changed my watch yet." He pulled a couple of egg and bacon sandwiches and a thermos of orange cranberry juice from the bottom of the bag and grinned in triumph. Neville gave him an odd look.

"That explains the accent."

Harry set down the thermos and frowned, his voice suddenly loosing a lot of its previous cheerfulness. "I knew people would notice my accent."

"No, no, it's not that bad. Just a bit... off." Harry ripped a bite out of his sandwich and chewed, leaving them in silence for about eight seconds. "So why are you going to Hogwarts if you're from America? Why not Salem Academy or something?"

"My biological parents both went to school here," he answered, his mouth still stuffed full of cold eggs.

"Oh, you're adopted?"

"Yeah, my dad took me in when I was one." He swallowed and asked a question of his own. "So what about you? What's your family like?"

"I was raised by my gran, mostly. Not much to tell."

The two fell into a companionable silence filled with scattered conversation on various topics. Harry decided that he really liked Neville and offered him half of a sandwich which he quickly turned down, eyeing the cold eggs suspiciously. Harry replied with a quick "suit yourself" and continued eating as they talked.

After about an hour, Harry pulled his ipod back out and motioned for Neville to come sit beside him. "What kind of music do you like?"

"What?"

"You know, like classical, rock, jazz? How anyone can like Jazz is beyond me, but some people do I guess."

"What are you talking about?"

"Music!" Impatient with his new friend's lack of comprehension, he handed him one of the buds. "Here, put this in your ear, like this." Then he hit the random button and waited. Soon enough, "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" was playing through the tiny speakers. Neville looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What—what is this?"

"It's music, Neville. Why, do you not like it? I can switch to a different song." In a second ,the music had switched to "Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and Neville couldn't possibly have looked more surprised. The next hour was spent explaining non-magical music genres and some basic and not-so-basic non-magical inventions and technology. It didn't take long for Neville to be completely in awe of his new friend and muggles in general.

When the light started to fade, the two boys were laughing and taking funny pictures of eachother with Harry's top-of-the-line and modified-by-Starks ipod. When the train finally began to slow then pulled to a stop, Harry slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the compartment door to look out.

"Why are you bringing your bag?"

"There's hundreds of thousands of dollars of tech in this bag. I leave it to no one. Not even whatever magical force is supposed to take our stuff to our rooms."

Neville looked at him oddly but left it at that and when they heard the call of "First years over here!" they quickly slipped and slided down the muddy slope to where the largest man Harry had ever seen was standing with a lantern.

And miraculously, Neville's toad, Trevor showed up in one of the boats, which they both quickly occupied as well.

Harry had already seen Hogwarts during his tour with his dad, but the view of all the towers and turrets in the fading sunset was definitely impressive and he gasped along with everyone else when it first came into view.

Whe nMcGonagall told them all to smarten up, Harry fidgetted with his hair and brushed his hand against his scar. He was grateful that his dad had insisted on getting it fixed. For some reason, it stayed there no matter what they tried, but it was much less visible than it had been before and most people wouldn't ever notice it. Unless they were really looking like those twins from before must have been. That was great because Harry hated being in the spotlight-he had found that out rather early when he'd attended some of his dad's award dinners- and he'd heard stories about how famous he was and what kind of symbol that scar was to people. He wasn't anxious to attract attention that way.

He was quite nervous as the hat finished its song and he looked out across the student body, but he tensed up horribly when the name "Potter, Harry" was called and the noise erupted. A rapid-fire internal debate broke out in his head and he couldn't decide. Did he stand up for himself and correct them on his name use or just go up? Eventually, when they'd called the name twice more, he nervously stepped forward. He could make sure people knew his name later, when he wasn't standing in from of the entire school.

He heard some of his fellow first-years gasp when he stepped forward, but he tried to block out the outside noise to focus on the hat as he dropped it onto his head and it slid over his eyes.

"_No preferences at all, I see,"_ the hat said. _"Interesting, interesting."_ Harry gripped the seat of the stool firmly, his knuckles turning white. _"You're brave and have a clear set of morals, but your first move is not to run into battle. No, you think things through. There's a thirst for knowledge, but it seems to mostly be from the desire to make your father proud—not from your own goals. You could have ambition, were you to find something you really believed in, but right now, you have no direction—no real focus. The question, it seems, is whether you belong in Hufflepuff or Slytherin." _

"_I don't care," _thought Harry loudly.

"_Yes, yes I can see that, which is what makes this sorting so difficult." _

The hat stayed on his head and the minutes ticked by, the tattered piece of cloth endlessly debating with itself inside Harry's head. The whispering in the room got louder and more distracting and Harry had a hard time ignoring it.

Eventially, to Harry's great relief, the hat made up its mind and it yelled out to the crowd: "Better be SLYTHERIN! With a chance to re-sort at the end of the year."

The whispering stopped, leaving dead silence and stares as Harry removed the hat and placed it back on the stool like those before him had done. Then it started up again, loudly. Eventually, as Harry started walking down the aisle, there was cheering from the Slytherin table and Harry sat down on a bench with a thunk, sliding his bag under his seat. Some people tried to shake his hand or pat him on the back, but Harry just put his head down on his arms and groaned. Just what he needed—more attention. Because obviously his accent wasn't enough. There was no way that kind of sorting was normal.

* * *

_So, let me know what you think! Much like pretty much every author ever, I love reviews!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


	3. Chapter 3--But My Name's Not--

_Yay! New chapter! _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

CHAPTER 3—But My Name's Not-

Draco Malfoy was the kind of person that everybody despised but smart people became 'friends' with so they could use them for their own means. Harry could see in a matter of seconds that his father would tread carefully and make sure to be friendly to a person like Malfoy. So, as much as he hated it, when the bleach-blonde kid held out his hand, Harry swallowed his pride and took it, doing what he knew his dad would have done.

The meeting in the dungeon common room after the feast was over relatively quickly, which Harry was grateful for. Snape kept glaring at him and it made him very uncomfortable. Also, ten o'clock was fast approaching and he did not want to explain to his dad why he couldn't follow simple instructions like 'call before ten.' They'd been given a long list of rules and expectations which Harry had subversively recorded on his ipod while completely ignoring. He planned to convert the long speech to text and then read it. He'd never been an aural learner.

When they were finally dismissed, most of his classmates were falling asleep on their feet from pure exhaustion. But it was only early afternoon for Harry and he was wide awake. He changed into his pajamas anyways though, getting odd and even outwardly hateful looks when he pulled on his red and gold bottoms, which had been given to him by cousin Tony the last Christmas. When he turned so they could see Tony's face on the back pocket, their faces turned incredulous, but they said nothing.

Ignoring his sleepy roommates, he clammered into the large bed and pulled the dark green curtains closed around him. Then he pulled out his smart phone, smiling widely at it when he saw that it was fully charged despite it having only had a half charge that morning. Glancing at the time on the top of the display, he shuddered. Nine fifty eight. He hit the speed dial for his dad and pressed the phone to his ear as it rang.

It rang twice before Harry heard his dad answer. "Harry, cutting it a bit close here."

"I know, Dad," he replied quickly and in a low voice, hoping his roommates were asleep and not listening. "I just got to my room."

Nathan hummed an acknowledgement. "So tell me all about it, Harry. Did you make any friends?"

And Harry told him. He spoke in a low voice about how he'd met Neville and they'd gotten along really well then he told his dad about the sorting and how the hat had given him the option of resorting at the end of the year. He could almost hear his dad's skeptically raised eyebrow in the silence. Then he talked about the food—it was too heavy—and told him what the common room and dorm were like and finally, about meeting Malfoy. "He's such a jerk, Dad. A complete bully. He walks around like he's in charge of everything. But I wasn't mean to him. I mean, it would be bad to get on the wtong end of that, right?" His tone asked for confirmation and assurance.

"Right, Harry. You did well. But that doesn't mean you need to spend your time with him. Try staying friends with Neville. You should spend time with people you like being around as much as possible."

Harry nodded, comforted slightly. There was a long pause, which Nathan interrupted. "I've got a meeting, son. Are you going to be alright there 'till morning?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Not tired at all, but fine."

"Alright. Just make sure you get up in the morning. Missing your first classes is a bad plan."

"Gotcha. Thanks Dad."

"Call me tomorrow. Afternoon or evening is preferable, but if you really need me, you can call any time."

"I know."

"Alright then. Go to sleep, Harry. You might not be tired, but if you try, you might surprise yourself and you need to get used to that time zone."

"Uh-huh."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"'Night Dad."

And then the phone call was cut off. Sighing, Harry leaned back against the pillows and pulled out his ipod, setting to work transcribing that long-winded speel from earlier.

As he read it, Harry decided that it was all mostly useless and decided to ignore it. He played some music and pulled out his book on magical theory. He was five chapters in when his eyes finally started to feel tired. He looked down at the time and saw it was after midnight. Putting the book aside, he went through the empty common room to the loo, relieved himself and washed his hands and face before running wet fingers through his hair and smiling when it stuck up at odd spiky angles. He slid under the covers then and read another chapter before closing his eyes, turning off his light, and attempting to sleep.

Harry woke to several squeals of shock coming from his roommates. He heard a thump and a yelp as one of them fell to the floor and he groaned as he rolled over. His ears quickly adjusted to his waking state and suddenly music was heard.

_And girls, they wanna have fu-un! Yeah, girls just wanna have fun!_

Harry groaned louder and pushed aside his covers to grope around for his bedside table. On its surface was his glass case, which he quickly opened and removed the glasses from, and his phone, which was vibrating as it played the music that was continually getting louder. He shoved the glasses onto his face and snatched up the phone. He stabbed at the answer button and scowled as he pressed the now quiet phone to his ear. "I'm up now, Dad. That was cruel and uncalled for."

"I realized after I talked to you how unreasonable it was of me to expect you to wake up on your own. Screams and thuds sometimes rouse you though, so waking your roommates was the next best option." Harry could hear the smirk and his scowl deepened.

"It's the middle of the night, Dad."

"Your time, it's seven in the morning. Go take a shower, put in your contacts, and get ready for school. And don't forget to eat fruit at breakfast."

"Fine. Also, changing your ringtone isn't cool. I hate that song." Harry hung up the phone and looked around at his staring classmates.

"Wha—what w-was that?" one of them asked.

Harry flopped his head down into his hands and sighed.

"It's my phone. My dad called to wake me up because I still have severe jetlag. I'm sorry that it woke you up too."

"What do you mean by your dad?" another one asked.

"I mean my dad. The man who I've lived with since I was a year old."

"What's a fone?"

"It's my smart phone. A non-magical thing. It's a kind of communication device."

"That's not possible," Malfoy piped up. "Muggle devices don't work in Hogwarts."

"Mine do. Now, I'm going to go take a shower." Harry gathered up a set of clothing, his soap and shampoo, his toothbrush, and his contacts and went out through the common room to the enormous bathroom, ignoring the rest of his classmates' questions.

When he'd finished his shower and pulled on his uniform, he went to the nearest free sink and unscrewed the lids for his contact case. Even that small action brought odd looks. When he placed the right contact on his finger and proceded to poke it into his eye, several people gasped. Harry stepped back, his hands on the counter. "Would you all just shut up, please? And stop staring? It's hard enough to put these things in without distractions."

They didn't listen and he had to try several times before he got the left one in. When he looked in the mirror at his now brown eyes, he smiled, despite the people staring at him. He ran his fingers up through his hair to make it even messier, knowing that his dad wasn't here to tell him not to, and set about brushing his teeth. When he was done, he shied away from the stares and just took his things back to the dorm room.

It was seven forty. He quickly plugged in his ipod, perfectly content to not be able to hear what other people were saying for a while, and started putting his books and pencils and notebooks into his bag. It ended up being heavy and he was concerned that his fountain pen would break if anything was jostled too much. He couldn't help but wonder why they weren't given their schedules before the classes started so they knew which books to bring.

He slipped out of the dorm and throught the common room and followed a couple of older girls to the great hall, where he happily dug into his breakfast. He still didn't want to be in England, but he was determined to make the most of it since he couldn't get out of it.

When he got to the Great Hall, it was still pretty empty and he slid onto a deserted bench with a sigh. Looking around at his options, there wasn't much. He grabbed some french toast and some applesauce, pouring the crushed apples over the bread before picking it up and taking a large bite from it. He took a sip of pumpkin juice and nearly spit it out. It was disgusting. He figured he might be able to get used to it, but he'd prefer not to. Standing up, he walked half-way down the table to get some milk instead.

He wasn't left in peace at the table for long though, and he was just beginning to enjoy his breakfast when Malfoy and two thugs plopped down next to him.

"What did you mean by 'dad', Potter? Everyone knows you're an orphan and people said you were sent off to live with muggles."

Harry rolled his eyes, trying his best not to get angry. "Yeah, my dad wasn't magical, but that really shouldn't make any difference. He's a genius and at least as rich as your dad, I'm sure, and completely great. Also, my name isn't Potter. It's Stark." He took another bite of apple toast and chewed thoughtfully.

"You went to live with muggles and you took their name?"

Harry swallowed, took a gulp of milk, then breathed in deeply before responding. "Yes, Malfoy, I have the same last name as my dad. Shocker, I know."

Malfoy began to eat some porridge as the hall filled, sitting in silence for a few minutes. Apparently coming to a decision about something, he spoke again. "Alright then, Stark, tell us, what have you been up to these last ten years? You are the supposed savior of the wizarding world after all. People want to know."

"You want to know?" He laughed a bit, taking another swig of milk. "Sure. You just want to be able to wave it over people's heads that you know more than other people do. Tell you what: you answer any questions I have about the wizarding world and spread only the information I approve, and I'll tell you just about anything you want to know about the boy who lived."

Malfoy lit up. "Deal!"

Harry bit into a banana as the schedules were being handed out and took his from the prefect without a word, scanning down it as he ate. He had double potions first.

Worrying about his potions supplies, which he hadn't seen in his trunk but hadn't looked for either, he leaned over to Malfoy, hoping he didn't sound like a complete idiot. "Will we need to go back to the common room to fetch our potions stuff before class?"

Malfoy scoffed at him, looking at him like he was a complete dunce—the exact reaction he was hoping to avoid. "No, the house elves took all potions supplies to the potions classroom. They'll be in the cupboards when we get there."

Harry nodded, thankful they wouldn't have to take the detour, and nervous for his first class in a room full of other children.

"So?" Malfoy asked. "Give me something interesting."

"Alright," Harry mumbled, trying to think of something. "A few years ago, my step-brother stared at me without blinking for half an hour."

"That's not even about you," complained Malfoy. "Wait, you have a step-brother?"

Harry made a face. "Yeah, technically. His mom and my dad aren't together anymore but I don't think the divorce papers ever went through since Dad put them through the shredder when he got them."

Malfoy looked at him, jaw hanging open. "That's fantastic," he breathed, "Now don't tell anyone else until I get the chance to!"

Harry shrugged, reaching for another piece of toast and Malfoy stood up and walked to another part of the table. Finishing off the toast, Harry pulled out his potions book and began to read, preparing himself for the class ahead.

Harry entered the potions classroom with the other students and immediately spotted Neville. Relieved, he went over and sit next to him. Neville looked panicked. "You alright?" Harry asked.

"Y-yeah," Neville stammered out, "It's just, well, you're a Slytherin. How did that happen?"

"I dunno, that's just where the hat put me-" Snape pulled out the list of names and everyone was suddenly silent. Harry thought it was creepy, but he didn't want to be the one breaking it.

Then Snape began calling out roll. When he got to Harry's name, he looked up. "Ah yes, Harry Potter, out new—_celebrity_." His eyes searched the room until he found Harry sitting next to Neville.

"Sir," Harry started carefully, hand raised tentatively in the air.

"_Quiet._"

Harry was quiet.

When Snape reached the end of the roll and then finished his frankly disturbing speech, his eyes returned to Harry. "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry was caught off guard by the question, but he saw the bushy-haired girl from the train raise her hand. "I'm not sure, sir, but my name's-"

"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything." Harry scowled at being cut off. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"The cabinet over there which is labelled potion's supplies, Sir," said Harry, pointing, "but my name's not-"

"Three points from Slytherin for cheek, Potter," Snape said as the girl raised her hand higher. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're the same plant," Harry answered, inwardly fuming, "but my-"

"Sit down!" he said to the girl, who was now standing up with her hand stretched up in the air. He looked rather upset that Harry knew the answer to that one. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and-"

"But my name's not Potter!" Harry snapped. "My name is Harry Stark!" Harry was standing up now, but when the cold black eyes met his, he sat down again.

"Another three points," Snape said before continuing his speech, which he ended with a demand for them to copy it down. Harry then lost another point for trying ot write with a ballpoint and told to use a quill and parchment like a normal person.

The rest of class went a lot like that. Harry and Neville's potion was completed just as well as the bushy-haired girl's since Harry was used to working with chemicals and such, but they didn't get any kind of acknowledgement. To be fair, though, neither did the girl, who Harry remembered was Hermione. Harry also learned quite a lot about magical reactions and how they mixed with chemical reactions. If it hadn't been so awful, he would have actually loved that class. And aside from the seething anger he felt, he was actually quite excited to be learning things.

Lunch was full of heavy foods again and Harry would have loved some simple yogurt and chips and sandwiches, but he settled for taking two pieces of thick bread and putting some chicken between them. He wasn't sure if they were allowed to sit at different tables yet and Neville seemed pretty terrified by the idea, so Harry was sitting next to Blaise Zabini for this meal.

"Draco says you've got a step-mum," Blaise said.

"Yeah," Harry replied around his mouthful of bread and chicken.

"I've had six step-dads."

Harry swallowed roughly and gaped. "Really?"

"Yeah. I wasn't ever close to any of them. It can be hard sometimes."

Harry was shocked that this boy was opening up to him of all people. "I don't like my step-mom," he said. "There's only the one, though. I don't know how I'd cope if my dad had a new steady girlfriend every couple of years, let alone a wife."

Blaise nodded, taking a bite of his shephard's pie. Harry waited for him to say something more, but he didn't, so, shrugging, Harry went back to his meal in silence.

It didn't last though, and as soon as he'd taken another large bite, a Ravenclaw second year was tapping him on the shoulder. "Is it true you're Harry Potter?"

He wanted to bang his head on the table, but that would have accomplished nothing. Swallowing with difficulty due to the limited amount of chewing time, Harry turned to face the girl. "No," he said. "My name is Harry Stark, I would much rather not be in England right now, thank you very much, and I'd appreciate it if people would stop interrupting my meals." He turned back to his food, popped a grape in his mouth, and saw Blaise attempting to hide a smile. That was when Harry knew that Blaise was a person he wanted as a friend.

The first years had friday afternoons free, so as soon as he'd finished his lunch, Harry nervously walked over to the gryffindor table to talk to Neville. "Do you want to do the potions assignment together today?" he asked. The other gryffindors looked at him oddly, being a slytherin, but none of them had said anything yet. Neville nodded and Harry smiled. "You want to see if we can find the library, then?"

Harry and Neville went down to the dungeons so Harry could drop off all the extra books he didn't need and Neville looked around the common room and then the dorms with a facial expression of pure fear and awe. "Am I even allowed in here?" he squeaked.

"Maybe not," Harry replied, "but it's my fault you are, so I'll take the blame." They were lucky that the common room area was so deserted, what with it still being technically lunchtime and when they left the dungeons again and went up to the second floor, where Snape had indicated the library could be located during his incredibly long and dull speech the night before, Neville was still looking slightly terrified.

When they found the library, which was more obvious and less hidden than he had believed it would be considering his luck and the fact that they were in a magical castle, they happily settled down at a table, both boys feeling quite relieved that they were in a safe place. They got out their homework then, and had it done in less than an hour. Their grins were wide enough to light up the library.

"Do you want to meet my dad?" Harry asked nervously as they ducked under a tapesty that they hadn't passed through earlier.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I figue that my phone is in my pocket, it's mid-morning there, and we're completely lost, so we might as well sit down and wait for someone to find us."

Apparently, Neville hadn't realized that they were lost, because that was what he focused on. "What do you mean, we're lost?"

"Don't worry about it—I'm sure someone will find us soon," he said, plopping down on the floor and leaning against the wall. He patted the ground next to him and took out his phone. Neville sat down cautiously. Harry dialed the number and put the phone on speaker. Neville was curious.

"What's it doing?"

"The ringing happens on both sides and it's alerting me that it's alerting him that he has a call. Harry didn't think Neville quite understood, based on the blank look.

"_What is it, Harry?"_ The ringing had stopped and Neville had jumped, moving a full two feet away.

"Hey, Dad," Harry said calmly. "Me and Neville got a bit lost on the way back from the library and I figured I could give you a call to pass the time."

And so it was that Nathan Stark heard all about potions class and got to know his son's first friend.

* * *

_For anyone wondering, Cousin Tony is not Iron Man yet. That will happen in about four years from the current point in the story's timeline._

_Please tell me what you think! Reviews are highly motivational and make my day!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


	4. Chapter 4--Starting With Fame

_A new, long chapter! Harry has his first full week of classes and we begin to see some interesting changes. I created an entire Hogwarts class schedule for this story-all seven years. If you'd like to see it, I've uploaded most of it to functionalhogwartsclassschedule dot tumblr dot com._

_Enjoy!_

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CHAPTER 4—Starting With Fame

Harry wasn't wrong. It didn't take more than about three quarters of an hour for someone to come across them and guide them back to somewhere they vaguely recognized.

"I wish we had a map," Neville said, kicking at the ground as they sat on the front steps outside the castle.

"Why don't we ask Professor McGonagall for one?" Harry replied.

"Do you think there actually _is_ a map of the school?" Neville asked, looking up.

"Probably. I mean, there's no reason not to make a map. They had to make blueprints before making the building, so really, it was already done."

"But... the school was built centuries ago."

"That's a good point," Harry mused. "Still, it couldn't hurt to ask, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose..." Neville trailed off. "But how are we supposed to find Professor McGonagall to ask for a map without a map?"

Harry dropped his face down into his hands. "You're right! We'll have to either be really awkward and go up to the staff table to ask or wait till Transfiguration."

The boys looked at each other, horrified at the prospect of asking in front of the entire school and said together, "Transfiguration."

Harry quickly pulled his schedule out of the back pocket of his jeans (having changed into much more comfortable clothes directly after lunch) and groaned. "We don't have Transfiguration together."

Neville pulled his own schedule out of an inside pocket of his robes and after confirming Harry's assessment, echoed his friend's groan and put his face in his hands.

"I have the class first," Harry said. "I'll ask. Maybe I can borrow Malfoy's goons to back me up."

Neville looked up and gave him a look of gratitude which quickly changed to mild fear when Harry mentioned Malfoy.

"What're these examinations tomorrow?"

Neville looked at the back of Harry's schedule where he was pointing and then looked at his own. "Oh!" he said, realizing what they were. "Math exams. Gran told me that they'd test our basic mathematics skills and then divide us up into classes. We need math to understand arithmancy and some of the more complicated potions."

Harry nodded. "What about this block in the afternoon?"

Neville shrugged.

The math exam was really dull. Harry only saw a couple of problems he couldn't answer, but really wished he could use the calculator on his phone for a lot of them. He wasn't sure, but he thought he would have impressed his dad with how well he solved some of the advanced problems in his head. Of course, they'd practiced complex calculations for hours on end over some weekends, so maybe it wasn't so surprising.

The afternoon block was much more interesting.

For two hours, the teachers and older students let the first years and whichever other students who wandered in look at and ask questions about all the school's different clubs. They had a club for every class, of course, plus a handful for muggle subjects, but in addition to those, they had everything from quidditch and gobstones to choir and football. There was a drama club that sometimes put on shows at the holiday feasts and there was an art club that offered lessons in everything from sketching to building models with toothpicks. There was a book club and a chess club and a couple different career-oriented clubs. There were also quite a few study groups. The one that Harry was immediately drawn to though, was the technology club.

According to the oldest members, the club (mostly formed of non-magical-born Ravenclaws) had been trying to get non-magical tech to work inside Hogwarts for years. And they'd also been attempting (and had limited success) to use magic to imitate certain non-magical inventions such as a telephone network.

Harry signed up within minutes of spotting the group.

He also looked at the other clubs, but didn't join any of them yet. They were going to be set up the same way the next weekend, so Harry decided to wait until after he could learn more about the classes and talk to his dad about it.

Neville signed up for a gryffindor study group, but Harry lost track of him after that, more interested in talking to a Ravenclaw sixth year who was interested in the idea of using ambient magic as a power source.

He also got the chance to meet some of the other teachers. He quickly found that there were two teachers for just about every subject and they alternated year groups, each one teaching four classes one year and three the next, always keeping the same students through all seven years. It was actually a really cool system. One teacher bothered Harry for a full fifteen minutes, finally getting around to asking why his eyes were brown since they'd been so green when he'd been a baby. Harry was more than a little creeped out at his teachers having seen him as a baby and being so worried about his eye color.

"I _do_ have green eyes!" he finally exclaimed. "I'm just wearing contacts!" Then he'd walked away to find a quiet corner of the grounds where he could sit and think.

Being around so many people was hard for him when most of his life he'd had private tutors and never socialized with anyone. After several deep breaths, he pulled out his phone and called his dad, comforted by the ringing noise at his ear.

"_Harry?"_

"Hey, Dad. Being around this many people is stressful. And everyone wants to talk to me. I'd much prefer to not be famous. The pointing is a bit more than irritating and the comments about my eye color are frankly disturbing."

Nathan sighed. _"I know you're used to it being just you, but this is something you're just going to have to face."_

Harry wished his dad would be more helpful than that. Eventually, their conversation moved around to the clubs and Nathan told Harry to join the band and learn to play an instrument. It looked good on a record and would be a 'valuable life skill.' Harry doubted this, but agreed anyways. Nathan also suggested joining a study group to help him get used to working in teams, which was important for getting a job, and to look at the drama club to help him with public speaking. Harry denied the last suggestion straight-off, but actually considered the study group idea. It was nearly a half-hour after he'd called that Nathan had to hang up for another meeting and Harry sighed, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and looking up at the slowly darkening sky. He missed America and really wanted to be back in his Portland apartment.

When Harry finally worked up the courage to face the crowds of people again and wander back into the castle and then the Great Hall, he nearly left once more. The stares and whispers and pointing were penetratingly awful. He didn't want to be noticed like that. His dad was noticed occasionally in certain circumstances and his cousin was nearly always pointed at and whispered about in science conventions or any other place where people knew anything about technology or weapons, but Tony always seemed to enjoy it to a certain extent and Harry simply couldn't understand how. It was awful.

He bravely crossed the entire hall though, and plunked down in a seat next to Blaise.

"Where were you?" Malfoy asked from across the table.

"I went out to the grounds to think," Harry said, plopping a big spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate next to a slice of roast chicken and a mound of carrots.

"Why?"

"Because... it's not really any of your business Malfoy."

Harry raised a forkful of green beans to his mouth and tried to ignore the blonde.

"People just want to know about the hero of the wizarding world. If you gave them the information they wanted, say... through me, they might leave you alone."

"I'm not an idiot, Malfoy. If I start telling them things, they'll expect to know every detail of my life and they'll never leave me alone."

Malfoy shrugged and took a large bit of something—Harry wasn't paying attention to what it was.

Harry got a lovely piece of apple pie for desert—although it was nothing compared to the pie at the cafe down the road from their apartment—and then he and Blaise followed an upper classman down to the common room.

"Are we friends?" Blaise asked nervously.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Definitely."

The other boy smiled.

Harry went straight to his dorm to avoid as many people as possible and played his music while reading on his bed, as had become usual. It was only about eleven when he managed to get to sleep. Slowly, he finally was adjusting to the time zone. Harry was both pleased and angry about this. Some part of him just didn't want to adjust because that meant that this living in Scotland thing was permanent.

Harry slept quite late the next morning, as did most of his classmates, but when he finally awoke and emerged from the showers dressed in loose red sweats and a grey Stark Industries t-shirt, he plunked down on a couch next to Blaise, who was reading a textbook. "Have you had breakfast yet?" Harry asked, adjusting the glasses on his face as he did so (he almost never bothered to put in contacts on the weekends).

The black boy nodded, not looking up from the book.

"Okay," Harry said, more cheerfully than he felt. "See you later then." Then he stood up and went to his dorm, putting his ipod and phone into his pocket before leaving the common room in search of something to fill his growling stomach.

Unfortunately, once he finally did manage to locate the great hall, the earbuds were nearly useless against the surge of people wanting to talk to him because nobody knew what they were. In fact, they even seemed to attract attention. He was shocked to realize that the fewer people that were around, the more of them would be willing to try to initiate conversation. Sighing deeply, he pulled the earbuds out and ate his muffin and banana while deflecting and avoiding personal and ridiculous questions.

He found himself repeating over and over again that his name was Harry Stark, his father was Nathan Stark, he had lived in America for practically his whole life, no—he did not hate or resent non-magicals, and no—he was not ashamed or in any way upset about being sorted into slytherin, nor did it make him evil.

Finally, too frustrated to deal with people anymore, he fled the hall for the comforts of the first empty classroom he could find. Pulling out the phone, he called his dad, desperately trying to hold back the tears that came from being overwhelmed, frustrated, and homesick.

"_Harry, it's nearly three in the morning. What is it?"_

He'd forgotten the time difference and suddenly felt guilty on top of everything else. "I'm sorry Dad," he said, barely managing to keep his voice from shaking.

"_No, Harry, what is it?"_

"It's... it's just so lonely here. I mean, ev-everyone wants to t-talk to me, but they just want to be able to say that they know a famous p-person." He lost control over his voice as he spoke, and he pulled his knees up to his chest as he leaned back against the stone wall. "I g-guess I'm homesick."

Nathan grimaced, though Harry couldn't see it, and sighed into the phone as he sat up in his bed._"Harry, I know that this is a huge change for you, but it's important. You're strong and you'll get through it. Have you had breakfast?"_

Harry nodded. "Y-yeah. B-but everyone was crowding me. Every time I get around people, they all come at me at once with all kinds of really personal and offensive questions and it-it's hard."

"_I know it's hard, but it will get better once you start taking classes and getting to know some of the other students in a less superficial way. Time is all that will help, son. Time and distractions."_

"But why do I have to be here? Why isn't there some kind of non-boarding school?" His voice was shaking less again now, for which both his and his dad were grateful.

"_Hogwarts is the best place for you to learn about and develop your magical abilities. You need the training it can offer,"_ he tried not to get upset, but they'd been over this many times now and he was tired, so his grumpiness was beginning to surface.

"And why won't they use my name?"

Nathan blinked at the fast change of subject and rubbed his temple. _"What do you mean?"_

"They k-keep calling me Harry Potter. No one will listen to me when I say my last name's Stark."

"_I'll send a letter to the headmaster about it, alright?"_ Harry nodded. _"Now go find a friend and try exploring the castle and grounds a bit. Or read up for the classes you're starting tomorrow. Preparation goes a long ways. Maybe practice some basic charms." _Harry sniffed. _"You need to refocus on something besides how much you don't want to be there. The more you think about that, the worse it will be. I'm going back to sleep Harry. I'll call you tonight."_

Harry nodded again. "'Kay."

"_Goodnight, son." _Nathan hung up and Harry pushed the phone back into his pocket, curling up tighter against the wall, resting his forehead on his knees for several minutes before forcing himself to stand up.

Slowly, he made his way back to the common room, where he spent the rest of the day reading with Blaise.

It was about seven when Harry's phone started loudly playing 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' once more, this time for the whole common room.

"Hi Dad," Harry said, sounding both miserable and irritated as the people around his looked at him hike he was completely insane.

"_You feeling better?"_

"A bit. I wish you'd quit using that ringtone though."

Nathan chuckled. _"Good, you can joke. What did you do over the afternoon?"_

"I read. I've got class tomorrow, you know. Me and Blaise plan on being at the top of everything."

"_Great. Professor McGonagall assured me that if you seemed to be progressing faster than the other students, she'd work something out so you could learn at a more appropriate pace. That means do your absolute best. I won't have you bored and underachieving."_

Harry nodded, still sounding a bit sad as he answered. "No problem."

"_Bed no later than nine—I'll be waking you up at seven."_

Harry groaned and Nathan smirked. "Just, use a different song, please."

"_No. Goodnight, Harry."_

"Night Dad."

Charms with Hufflepuff was first thing after breakfast and the class was more fun that Harry had expected. It started out with roll call and when Professor Flitwick got to 'Harry Potter,' the little man squeaked and fell backwards off his stack of books. Harry winced and blushed, but put his hand in the air. "Professor?" he started as soon as the man could be seen from behind the desk again. "Uh, it's just that my name... isn't Potter. My last name is Stark."

Flitwick had been shocked, as had a lot of the rest of the class, based on the gasps, but had actually accepted it with a smile and a "Your parents would have wanted you to be happy like that, Mr. Stark," and moved on.

They started with some magical theory, going over why wand movements and incantations affected spells, and talking about safety rules, like never trying a new spell without a teacher or without knowing what it was supposed to do. They also talked about wands and other kinds of focuses and they got to try the _lumos_ charm. They got to ask lots of questions and Flitwick was happy to take the class in the direction the students steered it towards, which was more like what Harry was used to, despite there being more students. That actually made it more fun.

At the end of class, they were assigned to write three paragraphs explaining how wands focus magical power and Harry stood up with a smile to start the long trek down to Herbology, Blaise next to him and Malfoy plus goons following behind and to the right.

To his great pleasure, Professor Sprout was just as accepting of his last name and unlike Flitwick, didn't treat him any differently than the other students, which was a nice break from the constant singling-out.

The first lesson was about dandelions of all things, as soon as the safety talk was over, and the assignment was a eight-inch description of the plant from whatever they could find in their books or the library.

As soon as they got into the entrance hall, a prefect coming down the stairs pointed them towards the showers, which could be entered from the grounds. Not being covered in dirt anymore, which although they hadn't actually touched, seemed to float in the air and get all over them anyways, was nice, and Harry actually managed to enjoy lunch.

The brief break before their next class gave Harry the chance to pull out a notebook and pencil and write down a quick rough draft of his wand analysis, which he could flesh out and rewrite on parchment later. As his classmates looked on incredulously, Harry just smirked, glad he'd been reading ahead.

The Defense classroom actually took quite a while to find, and Harry and Blaise, who had also been working on the Charms assignment, were three minutes late. Thankfully, most of the rest of the class was a couple minutes later than them and the teacher had obviously been expecting this, because the small man with the turban didn't start the class until after 1:40, by which time, Harry had already happily waved Neville over to where he and Blaise were sitting. The chubby boy looked at Blaise suspiciously, but seemed to trust Harry enough not to question it too much. Harry was happily chatting with both of them (well, mostly Neville because Blaise didn't talk much) when the professor—Quirrel, as he later found out—started taking roll.

The stutter was a bit distracting at first, but Harry got used to it pretty fast. Professor Quirrel had given him an oddly piercing look for several moments after Harry explained that his last name was Stark, but had eventually nodded with an "o-of c-course," and moved on.

They started on what exactly the dark arts were, which was an incredibly interesting topic, and Harry eagerly took notes. They still hadn't come to a clear conclusion about what made a spell 'dark' even after two hours, and that had Harry excited. The assignment was to look up the difference between light and dark spells in from two different sources and compare and contrast them. Harry could already tell that he was going to love this class. His two friends thought he was a bit insane when he couldn't stop grinning.

Neville went off with someone from Gryffindor named Seamus and Harry and Blaise spent half an hour finding the library then forty minutes looking up dandelions. The librarian, despite being unfortunately less than blessed in the area of aesthetic attractiveness, was incredibly helpful and almost smiled when Harry said please and thankyou.

Harry was in quite a good mood, and wasn't even too bothered by the staring as he ate his chicken and rice. By seven, his herbology and charms assignments were complete and he had a summary of the passages on the dark and light arts from his magical theory and defence textbooks.

He would have completed the assignment, but he was a bit worried about not getting back from the library before curfew, so he called his dad instead.

"_Harry, I can't talk right now. Is it urgent?"_ Harry should have expected this. It was a miracle it hadn't happen before now. The fact was, his dad was an important and very busy person, and he shouldn't have forgotten it.

"No, it's fine," Harry said, his mood sinking faster than it had any business doing.

"_I'll call you as soon as I get the chance."_

And so it was, that Harry sat reading his textbooks for the next hour and a half before his phone rang. He stuck his tongue out at the people who gave him disgusted looks for the odd noise and answered.

He was much less excited than he had been earlier, but he still told his dad everything than he'd learned that day and was at least happy again when he went to sleep that night.

The by-now-all-too-familiar-song and the groans of his classmates had Harry waking up Tuesday morning with a groan of his own.

History after breakfast was unconventional to say the least. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff first years filed into a classroom, pulled out their history texts and various note-taking devices, and waited, chatting amongst themselves, the Hufflepuffs watching the Slytherins suspiciously in general, but watching Harry with interest. When the teacher came into the room through the blackboard though, it attracted everyone's attention.

Roll call was quickly dispensed with. Once again, Harry corrected the professor on his name. The ghost looked at him oddly, nodded, and then moved on without saying anything on the subject. And then they started what seemed to be a _very_ rehearsed lesson. Professor Binns' voice was quite monotone as he began talking about the three theories of the origins of magic.

Everyone just sort of looked around at each other oddly as iff to silently ask 'is this actually what this class is going to be?' Harry answered their nonverbal question by raising his hand.

Professor Binns looked up at him with a confused expression.

"Yes, Mr. Stevens?"

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together at the name, and decided he should probably do some research on whether or not ghosts learned new things. "Professor," he asked, "how do non-magical creation myths tie into the theories on the origins of magic? Are there people who believe that magic was simply a part of the creation of man in general? There's a story in christianity about how some people were cursed by a god to have dark skin. Could magic be a kind of god-given blessing? Not that I'm religious—I'm just curious if there are any wizards who look at it hat way. Or are magical and non-magical creation myths entirely different and unrelated?"

Half of the class was looking at him cross-eyes like he'd gone completely insane and the other half was ignoring him and had gone back to either trying to stay awake or trying to sleep.

The professor was one of the ones who was looking at him like he was mad. That expression didn't last though, and soon, the ghostly professor was rubbing his chin in thought. "Mr. Stan, those are some very astute questions. Have you already done research on the subject?"

"No, sir, I just read the first few chapters of the text book and skimmed some other history texts."

Professor Binns nodded, then proceeded to divert from his lecture to answer the questions. "There are some who believe that, Mr. Samuels. Many muggle-borns choose to tie magical origin theories into their own religious beliefs and religion is something that has been highly debated in the magical community over the centuries, but..."

It was incredibly fascinating and Harry jumped to write down all the interesting bits.

Homework was three paragraphs explaining the three main theories of magical origin and two more explaining what the student believed or thought most likely. Harry was thrilled. Most of the rest of the class was irritated.

Harry finished up his Defense assignment in the library before lunch and started the history essay before lunch and Transfiguration took prescedence.

As it turned out, Professor McGonagall was the kind of teacher who believed students should learn by doing, so after a lengthy lecture about safety and dangers, she passed out match sticks for them all to turn into needles.

Harry had trouble at first, but eventually he forced himself to relax and focus and the matchstick elongated, pointed, and smoothed out, turning a bright silver. He was awarded ten points for his accomplishment, but when Harry picked it up, it didn't feel heavy enough. Taking a risk, he broke it in half, reveilling wood inside.

"Professor?"

She came over quickly and looked wide-eyed at the two pieces.

"Is it supposed to still be wood inside?"

"No, try focusing on changing the entire object instead of just its appearance."

Harry nodded and tried again, and when he picked up the pieces that time, it weighed more than it had before and he couldn't break them. That earned him another five points.

"That's an unusual problem you have there, Mr. Stark. You need to make sure you're focusing on changing the composition instead of just what it looks like. For most people, that's the same thing, but you seem to have a deeper understanding of scientific concepts. I see it occasionally in muggle-born students, but not normally to such a degree."

"Yeah, I had to think about the atoms changing. I've got a bit of a headache now."

"Hmm, I'll have to think on that, Mr. Stark."

Blaise gave him an odd look as the professor walked away. "What are atoms?"

Harry smiled lightly. "They're what make everything at an atomic level."

Blaise shook his head, not understanding.

"Maybe I can explain it to you when we've got more time. I might be able to do it over a weekend."

Blaise shrugged and focused on changing his needle back to a matchstick. Harry did the same with his pieces.

At the end of class, Harry asked for a map and McGonagall smiled. "Most people like to figure it out for themselves and don't bother asking. It is a magical castle, mind you, and things don't always stay the same, but this is a rough outline of where you can normally expect things to be." She then pulled out a folded piece of parchment and handed it to him.

"Uh, could I have one for Neville too?"

She gave him an extra and he thanked her before rushing out of the room to where Blaise was waiting for him in the hall.

From there, they went to the library again, and Harry had finished all of his homework assignments before dinner. Blaise didn't finish up quite as fast, but he certainly wasn't struggling. Harry was just used to doing much more.

After dinner, Harry read some more. He was getting bored of reading textbooks and wished he could watch some tv or build a robot, but it did manage to stave off some of his boredom.

Wednesday was Charms, Herbology, and Transfiguration again, and although Harry was having fun learning, he was feeling extremely underworked. He was used to a very high-stress school life and this was like a vacation. He didn't like it much.

They had flying lessons thursday afternoon though, which was exciting to say the least. Malfoy tried taking Neville's remembrall after he'd fallen from his out-of-control broom, but Harry scowled at him, said "You're going to loose us points. Plus, what you're doing is incredibly childish," and folded his arms to wait. Malfoy blushed, tossed the ball to Harry with a muttered, "Those things are useless anyway" and turned away to talk to Crabbe and Goyle. When Harry realized that his feet had left the ground, it came as a complete surprise to him.

Thankfully, he was firmly planted back on the earth by the time Madam Hooch came back.

When they finally got to fly, it was one of the best feelings ever. Harry had flown before with various inventions of his father and cousin, but this time, he was in control and it felt great. Madam Hooch said he was a great flier and gave him a pass to try out for the quidditch team if he wanted to. He wasn't sure he wanted to play a sport, but the witch also said that he could use the school brooms to fly on Sundays when she was teaching advanced flying classes if he wanted.

Friday morning brought potions again, which was interesting, if a bit of a hostile environment, and Friday afternoon brought incredible boredom.

Saturday morning, they all got back the results from the math tests they'd taken the previous week and Harry was not at all shocked to find that he'd passed with flying colors. He'd always been good at math.

Madam Hooch came to talk to him personally about it after breakfast.

"Your math scores were off the charts, Mr. Stark. I have to ask you: did you ind a way of cheating on the test?"

"No, ma'am. I didn't even use a calculator, no matter how much easier that would have made things. I finished normal high school math levels two years ago and I was working on advanced calculus before I came here."

She looked shocked. "Well, then, I don't seem to have any choice but to put you in my math 8 class. It's almost exclusively seventh years, but I have to put you somewhere."

"It's fine," Harry said.

She nodded. "Saturday at seven, third classroom on the right in the corridor on that side of the great hall. You're not from the normal stock, Mr. Stark," she said as she walked off. Harry wasn't quite sure what that meant.

* * *

_I took the idea of math classes taught by Madam Hooch from the story_ De-Aged_ by _The Bibliomaniac_. All credit for that idea goes to that author._

_Please leave a review! Thank you to everyone who has already-they mean a lot! I'm happy to answer any questions and I don't have problems handing out spoilers for those who want them. :)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


	5. Chapter 5--Too Cool For Normal School

_This chapter is shorter than the last one, but I think it's still a pretty good length. Hugs and an answer to any question of their choice for any reviewer who can identify which episode of Eureka Harry walked into. :)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

CHAPTER 5—Too Cool For Normal School

Harry spent Saturday bored out of his mind. This afternoon, he went to see the clubs again and signed up for the band and a study group of first years that met on Sunday mornings. The math class that evening offered no respite and Harry found himself the subject of many stares and loud whispering. The material was dull and slightly below his level and he was tired from doing nothing all day.

Sunday morning, Harry was more than happy to go out to the grounds and find Madam Hooch so he could fly for a bit. He started out low to the ground, staying safe like he was supposed to, but after a while, Madam Hooch stopped paying attention to him in favor of the older students she was teaching and he saw a butterfly flying overhead. Flying straight up at it, he caught it loosely in his hands before letting it flutter away and he zoomed back down towards the ground again. It was a rush. A few minutes later, he was throwing stones from up high and diving down after them just before they reached the ground.

When Madam Hooch saw what he was doing, she ordered him down, scolded him for recklessness, and took two house points, but also smiled and told him he had incredible talent. Then she got serious again and told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to ruin it by taking stupid and dangerous risks.

Cowed, Harry returned to the castle for lunch and stared sullenly down at his ham sandwich, bored again.

Harry made it through another whole week, happy to be learning, but longing for a faster pace and, as much as he hated to admit it, more intelligent classmates.

It was almost a relief when a prefect came to him and said that he was going to escort him to the Headmaster's office.

Harry looked around in wonder as he sat in the soft chair in Dumbledore's round office. McGonagall was there too, as was Professor Snape, and of course, Dumbledore himself.

"So, Mr. Stark, I hear you've been doing extremely well in your classes. Tell me, how do you like them?"

Harry looked at the old man with the twinkling blue eyes and became slightly suspicious. Most headmasters didn't order students to their offices with said student's head of house and the deputy headmistress there just to ask if he liked his classes. "Fine, I suppose, sir. They're all very interesting. It's great to be learning things."

"Are you having any problems?"

"Well, the staring is annoying. And some people are refusing to use my actual last name."

The blues eyes twinkled again. Harry found it somewhat disconcerting. "Are you having any troubles with your lessons, Mr Stark? Your -ah- father indicated that you might be in need of a slightly accelerated program."

Harry immediately relaxed. This was his dad's doing. "It is a bit boring sir. I mean, all the new information is great, but, well, I wish I could get it a bit faster. There's nothing to do here. Spending hours every night reading textbooks is great until you've read through them all several times and there's only so many times I can listen to the same songs and read the same books, and quite frankly, I'm used to advanced astrophysics so basic astronomy, math, and endless safety rules with limited explanation, experimentation, or application is a bit more than dull."

He realized that he'd talked a bit more than he'd intended and snapped his mouth shut, looking at the floor to avoid seeing Snape's scowl. That man still hated him and he had no idea why.

"Hm," Dumbledore said, steepeling his fingers as he leaned back in his chair. "The way I see it, Mr. Stark, we have two options. We could try skipping years and simply moving you into classes with a higher year group, or we could try giving you more advanced assignments during class. The latter would eventually lead to you skipping ahead, of course, but it would provide a smoother transition, I think. What is it you really think would help, Mr. Stark? Longer essays and more information around what you're already learning, or a jump to more advanced material?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked up. "I could jump ahead like you suggested, sir, but I would miss out on the important, basic stuff. I'd like to make sure I learn all that, but I'd like to learn it faster.

"Sir, the fact is, I've completed most normal high school classes and I'm capable of doing the kind of work expected of a seventh year in regards to essay-length, but I'm not sure I'm capable of the magic yet. I mean, Professor Flitwick says that the magical core grows with the person."

The three professors looked at him.

"Well, I suppose I'll just leave it to your professors to decide how to handle this, then. All I ask of you, Mr. Stark, is that you let them know when you already know the material or you feel like you need more in-depth work. If that doesn't work, let Professor Snape or myself know. Should we aim for moving you to second year around Christmas or look more towards switching year groups come next September?"

McGonagall looked at the headmaster like he'd lost his mind. "We'll give you some more advanced work and then start speeding up what you're learning. We'll see where you get to by the end of the year. Will that do, Mr. Stark?"

Harry nodded uncertainly while Snape sneered but didn't say anything. "Okay."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Well then, since that seems to be settled, would you care for a lemon drop?"

True to their word, the teachers did speed up his education. Snape only did so because he wanted to watch Potter fail, but Harry rose miraculously to the challenge and by Christmas, Harry was having too much fun working and learning to be homesick. He did, of course, dislike the long, tedious, and pointless assignments that even the best teachers handed out on occasion, but he also found comfort in it, as endless academia was something he'd had to survive through his whole life so far. Blaise was slightly jealous, as was the Gryffindor girl with bushy hair, although she was less pleasant about it, but Malfoy and Neville both thought he was a bit mad for wanting more work.

For math classes, Harry had his dad mail the problems he should work on and he did those during class instead of what the others were working on. In History and Herbology, he just got longer essays because there was very little point in speeding up how fast he learned those subjects, but he often got to go much more in-depth than the other students. In astronomy, Professor Sinistra threw her hands up in defeat after the first few weeks, dismissed him entirely from her classes during the day, and had him come to the midnight sessions with the OWL students.

In Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and DADA, he was learning faster and more in-depth and he had reached second year material before he went home for the holidays.

Christmas was great. Harry missed Blaise and Neville a bit, but he got to be with his Dad and even spent a week with his cousin Tony while the man's PA tried to convince Nathan to work for them. He refused again, obviously. Tony could be imature, but he bought fantastic christmas presents and let Harry build robots, so it was all cool.

On Christmas morning, he found presents from Neville, Blaise, and Malfoy in addition to the others he'd gotten and wished he'd given everyone their presents before the break instead of waiting till after. He also got a really cool invisibility cloak which his dad confiscated.

When the time came to go back to Hogwarts, it was all too soon and Harry descended into whining twice. He did go back though, and happily gave people their late Christmas presents with apologies for not knowing how to get them to their proper places for Christmas.

A few weeks into the new term, Quirrel started watching Harry fly on Sunday mornings, which he found incredibly odd. When the broom bucked him off one day, he almost stopped flying altogether, but it certainly reinforced Madam Hooch's speeches about safety and staying fairly close to the ground. When the professor started asking him to come in for private tutoring sessions which, more often than not, resulted in incredible pain in his scar, he got worried. Snape's continued limp was a curiosity, but his deepened scowl any time he saw Quirrel was worse.

Bracing himself, Harry went to see his head of house on the second Monday in March. Leaning his enormous and really quite heavy cello case against the wall outside the office, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Snape growled.

"Sir, I... well, I'm worried about something."

Snape scowled as he indicated the chair in front of his desk.

"I'm not sure how to say this, but I'm worried that Quirrel might be... doing something."

"What are you talking about, Stark?"

"Well, it's just that he keeps asking to see me alone for... private tutoring."

"You are attempting to get ahead in your classes, are you not?"

"Yes Sir, but whenever I'm with him, I get... well, I get this pain in my scar. I went to see Madam Pomfrey, but she doesn't know what it is, and, well..."

"Spit it out, Stark."

"I don't want to get him in trouble if he's not doing anything wrong, but... I'm worried that he might be..."

Snape growled in impatience.

"Well, I've been reading about coercion spells and I was wondering about how that might interact with a curse scar. Maybe that would cause the pain? Or something else? I mean, when I was younger, I was always told to tell someone if an adult made me feel uncomfortable, and Professor Quirrel acts really oddly and quite frankly, I'm worried that he might be trying to use some kind of spell on me that isn't working, maybe because of my scar, but he acts an awful lot like those people in the videos at space camp about abuse and stuff." Harry was blushing bright red and looking down.

He couldn't see it, but Snape was actually suppressing laughter. When he finally got himself back under control, he said, "Mr. Stark, I will look into the matter. You need not attend any of Professor Quirrel's classes until I speak to you again."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir."

"You may go."

Harry nodded and stood up to leave. He was at the door when he turned around. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, at the beginning of the year, you seemed to hate me a lot, but now it seems like that's a little less. Why... why is that?"

Snape resumed his scowl. "Your father was an arrogant bastard and a bully. You are just as arrogant. Unfortunately, you also inherited your mother's intelligence and sense od decency and I respect that to a certain degree. Now leave."

Harry nodded quickly and left, picking up his cello case on the way by and heading off as quickly as he could to band practice. He was terrible at his instrument and at all the other ones he'd tried, but it was sort of fun to play with a group. There were only a few of them that weren't horrendous, so they were all awful together.

That Wednesday, a students entered the common room and told Harry that Snape wanted to see him.

Putting his books aside, he rushed to exit the room and get to the man's office. When he got there, he knocked and waited.

"Enter."

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Mr. Stark, from now on, your defense assignments will come from me. We have been _unable_ to determine Professor Quirrel's motives and since the headmaster has trouble keeping that faculty position filled," Snape gritted his teeth at this point, "until we do, he will be staying. However, that does not mean you should be put anywhere near him."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, we'll start with an analysis of the different classifications of dark spells. One roll of parchment due Tuesday."

"Yes, Sir."

Snape nodded and Harry stood up to leave.

If Snape was a tough teacher in potions, it was nothing compared to what he demanded in Defense. Harry knew what he was doing though. He sometimes felt as though he could take on a couple of death eaters or a werewolf himself if he needed to. _And_ he knew how to talk or maneuver his way out of a situation without wasting energy or being an idiot and getting into a fight.

Snape may not have been the most patient of teachers, but he was an efficient one.

June rolled around and Harry could sometimes almost carry a tune on his cello in addition to his accomplishments in academic areas. The technology club had been fun, but ultimately just a distraction. He was half-way through his first year exams, had taken two second-year exams, and was studying for his astronomy OWL, flipping through star charts while he ate his pear. There was a boom from somewhere above the common room and he looked up briefly before returning to the charts in front of him.

The next day at dinner, it was reported that Professor Quirrel had gone missing. Harry found it incredibly odd, but shrugged and continued his review of harvesting techniques and the power of number combinations in potioneering.

The last official day of term, Harry was summoned to the headmaster's office again, only to be confronted by a wrinkled, dirty old wizard's hat as soon as he'd sat down. "You were promised a resorting, Mr. Stark."

Harry thought for a moment, scratching behind his ear nervously. Finally, he said, "Uh, yeah, no thank you. I mean, if it's okay, I think I'd like—like to stay where I am. I mean, I'm happy in Slytherin."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling mysteriously, and returned the hat to the shelf. Harry could have sworn he heard it harrumph. "Very good, Mr. Stark. I hear you have quite the summer work load."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "Unless you have something to tell me, I believe that there is nothing else. Of course, you are welcome to a jelly baby. I find them quite delightful."

Harry felt his face twitch. "No-no thank you, Sir."

The headmaster nodded once more. "Very well then."

Harry stood cautiously, shooting one last glance behind him as he exited the office. On the way back down the many, many stairs, he got a call from his dad telling him to wear a suit when he got on the train the next day.

When the Hogwarts express came into Hogsmead and students piled into it, Harry boarded it with a pile of homework that would last for at least four weeks. He talked happily with his friends and when they reached the station, Harry said goodbye to them, promising to write. He stepped onto the platform in his best suit, trunk dragging behind him, and spotted his dad.

"Harry, I have something to tell you," Nathan said as they were directed through the wall.

"What is it?"

"I accepted a job as director of research at Global Dynamics. I got the same house we used to have, so it shouldn't be too big of a change. It's set up and ready to go as soon as we get there."

"You moved while I was away at school!?"

Nathan nodded as he attempted to hail a taxi.

"No, no, no! You. Moved. While. I. Was. Away. At. School. Why would you do something like that? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It happened last week, Harry; it's not exactly old news." Nathan finally got a cab and helped his son load the trunk into the back. "Our flight isn't scheduled until tomorrow, so we'll be staying at a hotel overnight. We'll talk more about this after the meeting, okay?"

Harry nodded, sulking with his arms crossed. His dad had moved, without telling him, while he'd been away at boarding school. What kind of parent did that?

he hadn't exactly liked Eureka. It hadn't been awful, but during the years they'd lived there, he'd been forced to attend an actual school. It was still mostly individualized learning—that wasn't the problem. The problem was that he got made fun of terribly when any piece of advanced technology he tried to use stopped functioning or blew up the second he touched it. He'd been back to private tutoring in just a couple months and then he'd been made fun of even more because he 'couldn't handle real school.'

At the end of the meeting, which Harry had been forced to sit through, Harry asked, "Is Allison going to be there?" before Nathan could say anything at all.

"Yes, Harry. Allison is there."

"Are you back together?"

"No."

"Mm, alright then."

When they finally drove into town, Harry was scowling.

"Stop it, Harry. You'll be going back to Hogwarts in two months."

"Yeah, will you move again next year?"

"I said stop it. You don't have to talk to anyone you don't want to, you'll only have to go to Tesla twice a week, and this is a good town, where I have a good job. You'll survive."

"I have to go to that school!?"

"Yes, you're going to school. Just because you're learning about magic doesn't mean you get to avoid non-magical subjects entirely. I've signed you up for a few engineering courses. Now that your magic is more controlled, it shouldn't be a problem."

Harry went back to sulking and in a few minutes, Nathan was parking outside of Café Diem. "Come on."

"You said I wouldn't have to talk to people." Nathan gave Harry the look and the eleven year old huffed and got out of the car.

"Harry! Is that you?" he heard as soon as they entered the café.

Vincent came around to greet them, smiling as always. Harry forced a half-smile in response.

"You've grown! Your dad's been here for over a week now. Where were you?" He smiled and winked at Nathan. Harry didn't know or care why.

"School. In Scotland."

"Scotland? How was that? Oh, anything you'd like, on the house!"

Harry sat on a barstool and put his elbows on the counter. "Pineapple-berry smoothie please."

"You've got it."

"It was school. I learned things, I did homework, I lived in Scotland. I was miserable for a while, but I got used to it."

"Yeah? What were your favorite subjects?"

"They had a really unique take on Chemistry that was incredibly interesting. Applications in medicine as well as all sorts of other things. They had a new take on History too. I think Defense was my favorite class though. I learned a lot."

"Well I'd love to hear all about it if you ever get the chance," Vincent said, handing Harry the smoothie.

Nathan handed Harry a house key. "I've got a test I need to be at. You can find your way home, right?"

Taking the key and shoving it in a pocket, he nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Anything else I can get you?"

Harry smiled. "Some toast and bacon would be great."

"Coming right up."

Harry trudged back through the streets after his toast and smiled half-heartedly at the people who greeted him. He was several streets away when he heard a gunshot. He figured that it was probably a bad idea to get involved though, so he kept going. About an hour later, he got to their old house, used the key to get inside, and flopped down on the couch in the living room. TV. That's what he needed.

Nathan wasn't home until late, but that was hardly unusual. It was midnight, and Harry was elbow-deep in books and parchment, researching the mechanics behind pain potions.

"Hey Harry, shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Yeah probably."

"Need some help?"

"No."

"Right." He pulled a glass out of the cupboard and poured himself some cranberry juice.

"I heard a gunshot this morning."

"Henry got shot. They're claiming memory loss. Nobody knows what happened."

"Huh."

The conversation went no further, as Harry was still sulking, and it wasn't even ten minutes later when Harry marked his places in the various texts, rolled up his parchment, put away his various writing utensils and notebooks, and went up the stairs to his room. It was going to be a miserable summer and Harry knew it. None of his friends even had telephones and he was stuck in an isolated secret town of super-technology. How was he ever going to stay in contact? He doubted owls could get through. Or even bother to try, what with the weather field and the various barriers and shields and the aerial surveillance.

Harry buried his face in his pillow and growled.

* * *

_I absolutely adore each and every review! I love questions too, so lay them on! And I'm happy to hear suggestions._

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


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